City Lights
by ThatOneGoodWriter
Summary: Who knew a text message at 4:00 AM in the morning could reunite ex-lovers from four years back? Clace.
1. Chapter 1

_Who can know from the word goodbye what kind of_

 _parting is in store for us?_

Arundhati Roy

Sometimes, Clary wondered if it was all worth it. If staying in this wretched city was a boon or a curse. She drew in a breath and smelled nicotine and gasoline. What was New York but a place to fulfill your dreams? She padded along the sidewalk and took a drag of her cigarette. She shouldn't be smoking; she was constantly reminded of it. But now, in the dead of the night, she couldn't care less.

Around her, the city buzzed with zooming vehicles and flashing, neon lights. She took a turn and found herself staring at the old arena. It didn't look like much. A building about to collapse. Yet it held memories she'd never let go of. Clary wondered if anyone was in there. She doubted it. Only two people held keys to this place. She shook her head and tugged out the string around her neck. Unlocking the metal doors, she slipped inside.

There were some places you knew by heart. They were maps to your soul. The rink Clary stared at was one of those places. She stared at the sleekness of the ice. The worn, black seats. The pieces of equipment that still littered the walkway. The benches where the junior hockey players cursed and laughed and loved. She wondered if anyone remembered this arena or if they had forgotten its remnants as they did everything else. She didn't have to go to the locker room to change. The whole structure was there for her. She might as well be the owner. She stripped out of her sweatshirt and dragged her jeans off. She was left in black tights and a tank top, the type of clothing needed to feel the rush of the air as she skated.

She tied her skates. Clary had had them for two years. She still couldn't outgrow them. When she stepped onto the ice, her heart started to race. This always happened. Who thought that frozen water could give her a rush of adrenaline? She started with slow circles and laps, trying to get her legs warmed up. The atmosphere around her disappeared and all that she could see was ice and a silent audience. Her breathing was even. She listened to the sound of metal crashing onto ice. Marks appeared where she had been previously and Clary lowered her pace, lifting one leg into the air.

The other was on the ice, spinning her in small circles. The camel, it was called. The move was easy enough, but she challenged herself, her auburn hair whipping across her face. She propelled herself at a reckless speed, gaining momentum, and leapt into the air for a single. For a moment, she was suspended in the air and before she could situate her legs correctly, she fell against the ice with a sickening thwack.

She grimaced and rose up again, ignoring the pain in her legs and tried to skate it off. After a few more attempts, Clary gave up, throwing her skates into her bag with a harsh cry that echoed back to her. She didn't bother with her clothing and locked the arena as she was leaving. The cold air brought salvation to her sweaty body and she sighed softly, thankful for anything she could get.

Bringing out her phone from her satchel, she watched as the screen lit up with an unread message. The number was unknown. She speculated it was a random dick pic but clicked on it anyway. Narrowing her eyes, she read:

 _I wonder if you're looking at the same stars as me._

Her phone clattered noisily on the cement.

 **x**


	2. Chapter 2

_The only thing the sport gives us are moments._

 _But what the hell is life, Peter, apart from moments?_

Fredrik Backman

The screen of her phone had already been cracked previously, so its condition now wasn't any different. She felt her bottom lip tremble and shoved the device into her jacket, unable to answer the text. She knew who it was from. There was only one person who knew her love for the stars. Who knew exactly what to say when she was frustrated. Her mind raced with thoughts of where he could be. He couldn't possibly in the Big Apple. It was far too nostalgic. He didn't enjoy the city.

She shouldered her bag and took the long walk back to her apartment complex. If there was one thing she hated, it was the past forcing itself onto the present. She glanced up at the now black sky. The little lights had disappeared. With an exhausted sigh, she took the stairwell and to her disappointment, met with James, the landlord. He looked frustrated. Who could blame him? She hadn't paid rent for two months now. All she gave him were empty promises. Instead of speaking, she waited for him.

He was a burly man with a beer belly and a head of little hair. Still, he was a nice guy. He knew her. He was probably the closest thing to a father figure she'd ever get. And that was saying something. He opened his mouth. Closed it. "Clarissa, my dear..."

"I already know, Mr. James. You're kicking me out." She continued for him, her voice blunt and not the least bit bitter. To her surprise, he shook his head. He was sweating. Her eyes softened.

"That's okay, sir. I haven't paid anything and I know I can't stay here without giving you something." She smiled, trying to reassure him that she was indeed fine with it. "I already had my stuff packed anyway." That was a lie. Still, it was closer to the truth; she didn't have anything to pack.

James rubbed his red forehead. "You know this is a family owned apartment, Clarissa. I don't make all the decisions here." He paused and placed a hesitant hand on her shoulder. "If it was my choice, I'd let you stay here. It's just-"

"I know. It's alright. I owe you so much." Clary tried not to look at the regretful expression on his face. He was honest.

"No." He answered firmly. "You remind me of-" His adam's apple bobbed. "My daughter Sheryl. You guys would've been good friends."

She stepped forward and embraced him. She didn't know much of his personal life. Yet, she had understood that he had lost someone close to him. Sheryl was his only child. He clasped onto her tightly and almost unsure of herself, Clary shed a few tears into his shoulder. She didn't know the exact reason why.

When the two pulled away, they heard a tenant calling for James. Clary nodded towards him. "I'll leave tonight."

He looked reluctant to walk away. Instead, he tugged out an envelope from his shirt pocket and handed it to her. "What's this?" She asked, turning it over in her hands.

James smiled a little. "Just something to get you going."

"Sir, I don't think that's necessary. You've done enough for me as it is."

His eyes sparkled. "No, I want to do more than enough. Keep skating, Clary."

She felt her heart swell at his words. She struggled to nod her head at him. She didn't want to blink or else the storm would brew in her eyes. "Thank you. I'll come and visit."

As he trudged up the stairs, he said, "Please do that. Stay safe."

When he was gone, Clary held onto the bannister and unlocked her door, her fingers trembling. She stumbled inside the room, and only when she was hidden away from everything, did she crumble to the ground. She curled herself into her knees. She let the waves of water slide past her cheeks. All she could think about was that one person in the world had hopes for her. She wasn't entirely alone. Did Mr. James actually believe in her? Her chest contracted. She peered at the space she had lived in for almost a year. It was a mess of nothing. Unfinished paintings. Crumbled sketches. Broken skates. Old costumes. Chinese take-out boxes.

She rose slowly to her feet and began to shove her belongings into an empty trash bag she had found. All she took were her skates and costumes. She gathered the art pieces and left them at the foot of the door with a note. It read: _Maybe you want these. Store them away until I come back, Mr. James. I'm sure I'll finish them one day._

With that, she left and searched for a place to sleep.

 **x**

The thing about New York was that if you were at the bottom, you stayed at the bottom. Clary knew that more than anyone. And if you fell from the limelight, nobody would lift you up. She must have appeared homeless, for she carried a burden no one else seemed to notice. In spite of it all, her feet danced across the pavement. There was something about the way she moved. Anyone could tell she was a dancer. Clary picked her way to the arena again. This time, under different circumstances.

She gazed at the doors and whispered, "I always come back for you. Even when I don't want to."

There was something touching about that moment. That a tiny girl, who might be totally alone in the world, was speaking to an inanimate object. She probably wouldn't have it any other way, though. And that was the beauty of it. The way humans settle for things that they sometimes don't deserve. Clary walked inside the arena and searched the locker rooms. She found three, clean towels. They were small, but they were enough to be used as blankets. It felt so odd being in a place where thousands had sat before you. She carefully settled against her bag, turning it into a pillow. When she was as comfortable as she could get, she pulled out her phone.

In the darkness of the scene, the light of the screen made her eyes burn. She stared at the message he had sent nearly hours before.

 _I wonder if you're looking at the same stars as me._

Clary had thought of ignoring it, living her life without the presence of an old memory. But there was something dragging her back. Something keeping her in this rugged building. A building about to be demolished. She typed the customary response. The answer she knew he wanted. A message she'd told him many times before.

 _I have to be. Otherwise, how else would we be connected?_

Her finger hovered over the send button. Shutting her eyes, she clicked it. And she slept, daring herself not to observe her phone the entire night. She didn't know the extent of her text. She didn't know that her words could've sent a young man to buy a plane ticket. She didn't know he was at an airport, thousands of miles away from her, sitting on a chair, eyes glued to his phone. She didn't know that he had been waiting for her and that her answer meant he was coming back. She just didn't know.

Instead, Clary was slumbering, her mouth slightly parted and her hair clumsily falling against the unbearable surface of the bleachers in an arena that held the past, present, and future. In an arena that the both of them called home.

 **xx**


	3. Chapter 3

_All sports are fairy tales, that's why we lose ourselves in them._

Fredrik Backman

She woke up with a stinging neck. The air was warm and sticky; she pushed the towels away from her body, groaning when she had to stretch. She was engulfed in darkness. Patting the bleachers beside her, Clary waved her phone around in an attempt to realize where she was. She released a breath and rose up, kicking out her legs. Carefully, she sauntered down the bleachers and made it to the runway. With her plastic bag, she left the arena and met brilliant sunshine.

 **x**

Hockey was the only thing that mattered to him. It was both something he loved and hated. He loved the speed. The way his skates skidded to a stop. The way opponents rushed after him, knowing they could do nothing to catch up. He loved the roar of the crowd. The way fans cheered, holding small flags and cups of beer, intoxicated with adrenaline. He loved how small the sport was. Compared to other leagues, hockey was a tiny circle and he preferred it that way.

He hated how tired his body would get. The way his legs felt like they were burning and his lungs were ready to burst. He hated the losses. The way he had to endure the dejection for a certain period of time, only stopping to think about the next game. He hated the expectations. The way analysts predicted things, determining his fate before he had even thought about the future.

Still, hockey was his. It was something he could call home.

 **x**

The diner she found was cheap and vintage looking. She saw one customer sitting at a table in the far back. An old man with oversized glasses and a full head of gray hair. She found a seat near the counter on a rickety stool that appeared ready to break under enough pressure. A waitress sauntered up to her, a young woman with a pretty face. She gave Clary a smile. "Hello, darling. What can I get you?"

"Um..." Clary stalled, staring at the menu in her hands. She just needed some breakfast. She sighed and looked to the waitress one more time. "Could you suggest a few things for me, please?"

The woman nodded, already returning to her notepad. While she was distracted, Clary studied her. She had smooth tanned skin and hair as black as night. Her eyes were small and dark, lips red and pursed. She was the kind of person Clary would draw if she was still an artist. "Alright. Between you and me, the food here is mostly shit. But I guess the chocolate chip pancakes are okay. Is that fine?" She sounded hesitant.

"That's great. Thanks." Clary grinned a little and watched as the waitress made her way to the kitchen. She wasn't that hungry. She just needed something to get her ready for the day, whatever it held. The atmosphere was silent and the customer she had seen previously had left. She could smell the scent of greasy food. It made her stomach growl. She busied herself on her phone, eventually making her way to the message she sent the night before. She didn't regret it. She just wondered what kind of effect it would have.

A plate found its way in front of her. She ignored everything, licking her lips at the aroma of the chocolate. The waitress laughed. "Eat up."

 **x**

"Would you like anything to drink, sir?" The question made him jerk upwards, away from the window he had been staring at. He turned to the flight attendant.

"Come again?" He asked, hoping he didn't look as disoriented as he felt.

The woman nodded her head towards him, lips curving. She was polite. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Oh. No, thank you." She continued down the aisle.

He sighed and picked at the cloth of his coat. He'd be in Manhattan in four hours. Everything would change now. For the worse or the better, he didn't know.

 **x**

Her name was Isabelle and she was twenty-five years of age. In her own words, and not Clary's, she had a shitty job and a boring life. She had come to New York in order to find herself. Instead of achieving her goal, she continued to miss home. It was difficult because she couldn't go back to Oregon. She couldn't face the humiliation of her family and the way they would treat her when they realized she'd come with nothing. So Isabelle remained here, waiting for something she wasn't quite sure of. Clary had given her her phone number, telling her she'd be there any time she needed to talk. The waitress was thankful. She had given Clary a playful kiss on the cheek and a wave that promised more meetings.

The pancakes weren't delightfully delicious, but they were enough to fill Clary up. She searched some hotels online and hailed a taxi to get to a place called the Mortal Instruments. The envelope Mr. James had given her was in her hands. It held an amount of two thousand dollars. How long would the money last?

 **x**

He pulled out his headphones, tired of listening to the same song over and over again. In the background of conversations and the sound of movements as people readied themselves for arrival, he heard the voice of the pilot, informing everyone that they would land soon. He brought his knuckles to his face, rubbing them against his lips. When he would get to New York, what would he do? He hadn't been there since...

Since then.

 **x**

She started to skate, the bottom of her right leg held by her hand. She twisted and turned, her wild hair whipping in the air. She hadn't bothered with a ponytail. She continued to propel herself, going faster as the seconds passed. She could barely hear the music coming from her phone. The arena was far too large for her to listen to some Imagine Dragons.

Sucking in a breath, her cheeks rosy, she skated backwards. Her green orbs gazed at the sheet of ice, making sure she wasn't close to the boards. She wouldn't fall this time. She turned her left skate and jumped, rotating until her right foot was set down. Her mouth slowly quirked into a grin. Without realizing it, she laughed aloud. Clary stared at her body, amazed at the skill she had just shown. Placing her palms together in a tight grasp, she closed her eyes.

She almost cried.

Almost.

 **x**

He raised his hand for a taxi. The vehicle halted a few feet away from him. He yanked open the back door and climbed in. "Where to?" The driver asked. He had a Jersey accent.

"Alicante Arena." It sounded weird to his ears. He hadn't said the name in years. He nearly regretted the emotions that took over him in that moment.

"It's closed down, sir. Nothing but an abandoned building."

"Just drop me off there." He replied.

The driver scoffed. "Whatever you say, boss."

He reached into his pocket and took the string. The key felt heavy. He gazed out of the window, all the city a messy blur of nothingness.

 **x**

She threw her skates into her bag, breathing heavily. She slumped against the bleachers, her arms limp and her legs stinging. She was glad, though. Her hair matted against her forehead, sweat making its way down her forehead. The water she had in her bottle was warm, but she still drank until the plastic container was empty.

Rummaging through her bag, she found a single cigarette. Her expression lit up. She had to reward herself somehow. Bringing the lighter to her lips, she watched giddily as smoke rose into the air.

The sound of a click made her stagger in surprise. She kept the cigarette in her mouth as a silhouette made its way toward her.

 **x**


	4. Chapter 4

**Finally, some consistency!**

 _Hi, readers! I'm super sorry that this isn't an update. I really apologize if you hoped it was. Anyway, everyone has been asking me to update a bunch of stories as quick as possible. Others have complained that something is seriously wrong with me because of my long periods without update. I finally came up with a schedule. I'll try to be as stern as possible with the dates provided, but I'm entering SENIOR YEAR and kind of need to get my shit together._

 _I've got a bunch of AP work and a lot of decisions I need to make before college life. I hope, dearly, that you understand. ALL, and I mean ALL, stories will be updated. I don't care how old they are and how many reviews I receive._

 _One last thing, before your brains get tired of this. If you haven't noticed, the Mortal Instruments community is lowering in the amount of new writers and new stories being created. I constantly read new stories where there are literally no reviews. The author, despite this, continues to update. I saw a story the other day that possessed about five chapters. There were no reviews. I don't want to be a bitch and I have no right to demand something of you, but if you want to continue to read fanfictions about your favorite characters, why aren't you contributing?_

 _Why is it that authors have to work hard to write things for you? To satisfy you? A few years back, the TMI community was flourishing. Now, the latest updates are hours ago. And I mean, like, 10 hours ago. So I'm done ranting over shit I know people obviously don't care about._

 _If you got anything out of this, it's that you should review. You don't always have to give a compliment. You can give constructive criticism. You can suggest ideas and styles. You are basically helping authors grow!_

 _Without further ado, here's my schedule. It'll be on my bio, but I don't think anyone has the time to visit that page._

 **Are You Gonna Stay?** (A fanfic based off of Vance Joy's [Riptide]. Clace. Four-shot.)

*Every Tuesday*

[complete by the 4th of September]

 **Bandaids** (Clarissa Fairchild, a young woman who desperately needs money to help support her grandma, decides to become a housekeeper for the Herondale Manor. Trying to achieve her dreams by following a beaten path, Clarissa realizes that this particular job may affect her personal life more than she would like. Clace.)

 **You Look Like Hell** (A Clace fanfic based on Melanie Martinez's [Soap].)

 **Did You Forget About Me?** (As a child, Jace loses his mother and father on the same night. With no one left to depend on, he is forced into an orphanage, one that seems unwelcoming. There he meets a certain annoying girl. She kept talking to him but he liked listening. They become friends, well sort of, more or less. But the problem he didn't know he'd have to face in the orphanage was: Separation.)

 **Let's Just Lie Under a Thousand Stars** (When Clarissa Fray, a smart but spirited student who never seemed to lose passion for anything, meets Jace Herondale, a youthful man who seems too cold for anyone to ever love, she finally discovers why you don't touch broken or shattered glass. You wound yourself along the way. "You can't just apologize for every little thing and expect me to come back everyday. You just can't.")

*Every other Thursday*

 **Erasing the Ghost Inside (** Jace's younger brother, William, is getting married and he needs support with planning. Traveling across the globe, Jace does not expect to grow fond of his brother's future wife, Clarissa. Clace. Angst.)

 **My Lovely Sin** (He is a nobleman, cruel and stern. Wealthy and strong. When he purchases a certain servant, he does not expect to fall in love with an individual he believes is a mistake to the world. Clace.)

 **Because I'm Curious Why** (A break up. Its effects. Clace. Snippet: [That's all. I'm leaving. It's over. Whatever we had, it's clearly gone now. You must have noticed, babe. We weren't gonna last. No one will. I won't end it with an I love you because I truly don't and it would be lying. Stay strong. Jace Herondale x])

*First of Every Month*

 **This Light is Fading** (Kagome Higurashi is determined to join the Survey Corps. There she meets Erwin Smith who abruptly appoints her to Levi Ackerman's team. As she journeys with her Captain and her companions, she is constantly reminded of a miko in an era she does not remember. Trying to recollect the memories she receives, Kagome must find a way to understand who she once was and who she will be.)

 _Sorry AoT fans, I'll be sure to continue updating. I'm coming back! Don't lose hope!_

*Every Friday*

 **In Wine There is Truth** (Set in the late Middle Ages, two sisters venture into the path of royalty. Clarissa, a fierce fighter finds herself watching her sister, her closest confidant, take the throne. Placed in the highest positions of the Alicante Kingdom, the two women discover themselves falling in love with the same man, the King. History/Angst/Action. Clace.)

 **Shooting Star** ("Why won't you fucking wake up when I need you? You're always asleep." In a fit of rage and defeat, he placed his head into the crook of her neck and cried until his heart hardened again. Clace.)

*Every Other First of the Month*

 **Forgive Me For I Have Sinned** (Clarissa Adele, a soon to be queen, must take the throne of a kingdom who hates her very soul. There she meets a young man, a courageous one, who tries desperately to save his family. On the way, he must unravel the queen's past and perhaps begin something worth fighting for. Clace.)

*Every other Saturday*

 **Onward, We Go** (Clace. An office story.)

 **I Drank Until I Saw You Next to Me** (Clarissa Morgenstern, a runaway, wakes up in a white van with four strangers, one of whom is a golden eyed drug addict. Clarissa forms a connection with him as an adventure is in the making. Clace.)

 **False Image** (A bad girl. A bad boy. A bullying incident gone wrong. [Clace] [Angst])

*Infrequent Updates*

 **She Needed the Saving** (Jace ached to get closer to the baffling girl but she always disappeared when he would find the courage to step forward. She always surprised him with stupid and sometimes weird habits. She left him dumbfounded but fascinated. "Maybe she runs away so fast for the fun of having me catch up.")

 **I May Not Believe in Him, But I Believe in Her** (Jace is supposedly forced to attend church even though he isn't much of a believer. There, he meets the daughter of the Pastor. She's a reckless liar and a careless thrill-seeker, but he likes her nonetheless. "Are you coming with me or not?" She asked him, irritated with his inability to make a decision. He took her hand. "Let's get the fuck outta here." Clace.)

*The 15th of Every Month*

 **I Can Only Remember His Lips** (He loses his memory. She tries to make him remember. Clace.)

 _Does anyone even want this updated. If so, send a PM or a review._

 **We Just Clicked** (Clarissa Morgenstern lives a life that revolves around darting corner to corner as Mr. Herondale's manager. Signing papers, meeting with companies, and even taking the job of comforting her companion. Though this was quite grueling, she'd do a lot for her fair eyed workmate. On hiatus.)

 **Ma'am!** (A barely managing man and a proudly engaged woman. Clace.)

*Every Other Sunday*

 **The Getaway to Nowhere** (When Jace Herondale's soon-to-be-wife, Clarissa Fairchild, leaves him a month before their wedding, he is left with the two week cruise they had planned for their honeymoon. Taking a major risk, Jace decides to search for a woman by his fiance's name so that she may bring reassurance to him and attend the cruise with him. A ridiculous idea. A hell of a lot of consequences. Clace.)

 **Sincerely, Yours** (5 teenagers spend a Saturday morning in detention. Based off of the 1985 film: The Breakfast Club. Clace. Sizzy. Jaia.)

 **Let's Be Nothing** (Clary works an on and off again job. She talks to on and off again friends. She even loves an on and off again boy named Jace. Clace. Angst.)

*Infrequent, most likely on a Friday*

 **I'm Used To It** (A blind girl manages to make a neglected boy see. Angst. Clace.)

*Every Monday*

 **Only One of Us Can Stay** (When all options fail, a support group is her last hope. Clace. Angst.)

 **You Are the Medication That Keeps Me Alive** (Tessa Gray, one of the only warlocks to survive after the Great War, is captured by King Edmund who seeks her power for his own good. Caged in a prison and tortured all the while, Tessa is faced with the King's son, William, who seeks to free her despite his hard demeanor. Wessa.)

*Infrequent Updates*

 **Don't Get Too Close** (She's gone through a lot. He has too. But in the end, they're just too catastrophic and destructive to love one another. Clace. Angst.)

 **THE-TRUTH-IS** (It was simple. He wrote his feelings on one page. She wrote her feelings on the other. The only rule was that they were no allowed to see each other's entries. The rule was a promise they would both keep. That is...until the day she decides to leave and he is abandoned with only a tattered book he is tempted to finally read. Clace. Angst.)

*Last Weekend of Every Month*

 **There's No Beginning Here** (She can try to hide, but one of these days, someone'll find her. Clace.)

 **Go Out and Start Again** ("Clare! He's 21. He doesn't need protecting anymore! What are you trying to protect him from?" Simon shouted. She swallowed and answered quietly. "The entire world." Clace. Angst.)

 **Writing Extravaganza** (One-shots written of your choosing. Drop a review or PM me for requests and I will write them here. [Clace] [Malec] [Sizzy] [Jaia])

*Based on Amount of Reader Requests*

 **Melody** (A chance meeting leads a stubborn woman and a musician down the path of love. Clace. A Titanic story.)

 **Walking Around Aimlessly** (The date is September 1952. Clarissa Fairchild is a papergirl, sending and delivering newspapers to her fellow neighbors. On one trip she discovers Jonathon Herondale and something inside her unravels. Clace. Tragedy/Romance)

 **My Thorns Are Still Sharp** (Clarissa Morgenstern is the goddess of jinx, exiled by all the gods and punished to live in the mundane world. There lives Jace Herondale, an ordinary human with the ability to see her. Trying to stay under the radar of the gods, Clarissa finds herself in the center of an issue that threatens all of Olympus and must drag the boy with her in search of a solution. Clace.)

*Every Other Wednesday*

 **Far Far Away** (Jace, a fallen soldier, leaves Clarissa, his fiance, a series of videos to watch.)

 **I Miss You More At Night** (A struggling but well known actor must film a movie despite the issues in his life. But just as he thinks another movie could higher his status, the actress he must film with seems to have other ideas. And maybe, just maybe, something is found along the way. Clace.)

*Every Sunday*

 **City Lights** (Who knew a text message at 4:00 AM in the morning could reunite ex-lovers from four years back? Clace.)

 **Save Our Souls** (Two teens chat through the website: [StrangersForHelp]. In this site, people across the globe try to communicate in order to solve their issues, creating a digital friendship. Clarissa Morgenstern and Jace Herondale find themselves chatting with one another with hidden names until they build their own world. Soon, they decide to meet. Digital universe and reality clash. Clace.)

 **You Call the Shots, Babe** (Jace would come and we kind of all knew the reason why. We knew he wanted to see us. But mostly, above all else, we knew he came for Clarissa Fairchild. [Clace] [Angst])

*As soon as I can, whenever I can*

 _The schedule is subject to change. If and when it does,_

 _I will give you a notice and explanation._

 **All one-shots/two-shots/three-shots are infrequent. They will definitely be finished.**

PM me for any questions and concerns!

 **SNEAK-PEAK OVER FUTURE FICS**

 **We, Dumbledore's Army:** After the success of the second wizarding war, no one expected the sudden disappearances of prominent wizards and witches. Desperately using Hogwarts as a haven for protection, the wizarding world is slowly decreasing as the remains of the Dark Lord's minions grow. A solution is proposed. Two individuals lead the charge, chosen by the existing professors. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. Dumbledore's army is revived. Dramione. [Harry Potter]

 **Scattered Amongst the Stars:** She's the head of the vampire clan. He's the Alpha of the werewolves. Clace. [The Mortal Instruments]

 **The Last Prayer:** He finds her on the ground, surrounded by hungry titans. From there, she's his and his alone. Levi/Kagome. [Attack on Titan]

 **Crows:** He's the leader of the Alicante thieves. She's a poor villager who steals for her next meal.

Clace. [The Mortal Instruments]

 **One Summer:** They can only see each other at camp. They take what they can get. Clace. [The Mortal Instruments]

 **These Tiny Glimpses:** Levi's getting dreams of her. Tired and exasperated, he searches for the woman that is taking over his mind. Levi/Kagome. [Attack on Titan]

 **Relapse:** She's suffering and he's got to do anything to take the burden away from her. Hinny. AU. [Harry Potter]

...

More later!

 _Thanks for reading. Any suggestions or comments are absolutely welcome. Sorry again, if you thought this was an update._

 **A question most readers ask me:** Why are all your stories sad?

 **Answer:** They're not necessarily sad, they're just true. I try to make all my stories as raw and honest as possible. I will not sugarcoat things. I will not have happy endings where there shouldn't be. My biggest inspiration comes from a fanfic writer named KissingFire. She basically wrote the truth in her TMI fics and whatnot. So yeah. Cheers!

 _Bye!_


	5. Chapter 5

_That's it, I guess. Just go on living, whether_

 _you feel like it or not._

Anton Chekhov

It didn't take long for her to realize who it was.

Only two people had keys to the old arena.

 **x**

Her mouth felt numb. She couldn't even feel the warmth of the cigarette anymore. She stood there, completely alone, surrounded by a blanket of ice that she considered home.

She didn't speak first.

He did, his voice tinged with nostalgia and a little playfulness.

"Clary." The name rolled off of his tongue delicately, like he had been saving it for a while. "What can I even say?"

 **x**

She took a breath, tried not to allow her vulnerability to show.

He looked so different.

Four years had really done something to the two of them.

 **x**

His hair was darker. It wasn't even gold anymore. Why had he dyed it? The locks came out in long waves, making him appear both mysterious and alluring. His eyes were the same. They were tawny and bright, filled with small specks of green and blue. His gaze was on her, critical and careful. She let her orbs fall down his figure, to the clothes he was wearing. She was used to seeing him in jerseys. Sports apparel that reflected his personality. Now, his body was covered with a wrinkled flannel shirt and ripped jeans.

He grinned, his wet lips stretching beautifully.

She felt her heart skip several beats.

He was an angel.

 **x**

Jace knew he'd see her the moment he entered the building.

He just didn't know what to expect.

Now, he was a foot away from her. He was glad to revel in the fact that she was still short. When he had known her four years before, her hair was short. It had grown much longer since then. The hue was still a vibrant auburn, a fire ready to burn him whole. His fingers twitched. Once upon a time, he could run his hand through her curls and she'd lazily smile, distracted and high and in love with him.

She wore no makeup. The freckles on her cheeks and nose seemed to stretch out into infinity. She tilted her head at him, looking bored at the sight.

"What are you doing here?"

 **x**

Her question came out cruel. He almost flinched for a second, but then he remembered that that would please her. She wanted to see him weak.

He answered her honestly. "I came to see you."

She didn't falter.

She scowled, and even in her state of anger and distaste, she looked lovely. "Don't fucking lie to me, Herondale."

 **x**

He missed that nickname. He hadn't heard it in years.

Why had he stopped breathing?

She just had that effect on him.

 **x**

He cocked an eyebrow gracefully. He took a step forward. He was at arm's length. She narrowed her eyes and remained silent. She was waiting on him.

"I'm not lying. I wouldn't come to a shitty place like this for any other reason."

She exploded abruptly, her voice shaking. She trudged forward and jammed her finger in his chest. He didn't have time to move away. He was too busy watching her, trying to get a rise out of her. He stumbled a little at her attack, but didn't move. "Don't you talk about this place! You don't fucking know about the shit I went through." She was speaking faster, her words slightly slurred and her cheeks flushed. Her head bobbed steadily, red hair wild and shaking. She added, almost like an afterthought, "We're not all born with privileges. We're not all like you."

That made him collapse on the bleachers, half in defeat and half in exasperation.

 **x**

The arena was silent.

Clary threw her cigarette to the floor, stomping it savagely with her shoe.

She took a glance at his curled body. "You made a mistake four years ago. Time won't ever change that."

She sat down, a long distance away from him. She pulled out her phone and clicked on her playlist. She played the one song that came to mind. Her shoulders were shaking. She stretched her legs briefly and shoved her skates on. She took off to the ice, ready to release all of the tension and love and hate and hope she felt.

 **x**

For a moment, he stared at the bleachers.

He had flown all the way over here only to be turned away swiftly.

Jace looked to the ice when he heard the song.

 _Don't want to close my eyes,_

 _I don't want to fall asleep,_

 _Cause I'd miss you, baby_

 **x**

He watched her, his thoughts all tossed elsewhere. She was gliding fiercely, with no destination and technique in mind. Her hair whipped chaotically in the air, a glow of crimson that flourished on the white blanket. The song wasn't super loud and he could only hear some of the lyrics. They faded just as quickly as they filled his ears.

He turned around and searched blindly for his bag. From it he grabbed a cigarette. His chest felt tight. He needed to get his mind off of her. He needed to stop being so fucking fragile. He unrolled the cigarette, sprinkled the cocaine with the tobacco.

He smoked and smoked and smoked, listening to their song and observing her as she danced.

 **x**

She was tired and sweaty and she thought he had left, but he hadn't. His expression was blank and he was on his phone, his fingers rapidly moving across the screen. She crinkled her nose at the scent of stimulants.

"Aren't you going to leave?" She asked, wiping her face with a towel. She didn't feel like arguing. She just wanted him gone.

He peered up at her standing figure momentarily. His jaw clenched. The drugs made him inhuman and sadistic. "This is my arena just as much as it's yours."

Clary wanted to hit him. She wanted to clear away the mask he was wearing. She sighed and sat beside him, centimeters separating them, shocking them both.

"I don't love you. You know that, don't you?" She stared at her hands as she spoke, a lump forming in her throat.

He didn't answer. Still, she could've sworn she heard him say her name.

Like a prayer.

 **x**

 _Review._


End file.
